The Prettiest Girl
by twinkinu
Summary: When Mabel comes home in tears, Grunkle Ford takes it upon himself to make her feel better. A Ford/Mabel bonding fic. Set before The Last Mabelcorn.
1. Chapter 1

Ford rather enjoyed having the house to himself; it was relatively rare, but when Stan was away for some alone time at the lake, Dipper was spending time with his teenage compatriots, and Mabel was off wooing her latest love interest, he was entirely free to do whatever he pleased.

Deciding it was time for some sustenance after several hours spent in his private study reading _Encyclopedia of the Strange_ , he wandered into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator, humming in thought.

He froze when he heard sobs coming from up the stairs.

Closing the refrigerator, he cocked his head to the side in order to listen more closely. Unmistakably, somebody was crying. And unmistakably, it was Mabel.

Ford's first instinct was to walk up to the attic, but he hesitated on the first step and bit his lip. What was his plan for once he got up there? What could he possibly do to comfort his niece? Would he ask her why she's crying or just ignore it and try to get her mind off of things?

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he did to comfort Stanley when they were younger, but it didn't help. Back then, Ford always knew what was wrong. He didn't have to ask because there was never a question, and he always knew what to say.

But Ford couldn't even talk to Stan anymore.

He leaned against the wall, head in his hands. If it were Dipper, it would be different. Ford would still feel horribly awkward and not know how to approach the issue and probably say something wrong, but it would be _different_ because it would be _Dipper_ and he could _talk_ to Dipper. He could _relate_ to Dipper. Ford understood how Dipper's mind worked and would be able to calculate the correct response. Even if Ford wasn't good with kids, Ford was good with _Dipper._

But Mabel?

Ford adored Mabel. He really did. She was sweet and pure and despite being Stan's foil in every way, she somehow reminded Ford of his brother. But Mabel was a bit of a wild card. There was no predicting what might be bothering her, and the probability that Ford would have any idea how to console her was practically nonexistent. Perhaps Ford should just wait for someone else to come home. Dipper would undoubtedly understand how to help his twin feel better, and Stanley had always been so good with children, especially the niblings. And neither of them would make it worse the way that Ford would. It would only be – he glanced at his watch – a few hours before one of them came home; surely, Mabel would be fine until then...

But when Ford heard another blubbering cry escape from his niece, a protective instinct flared up in his chest and he ascended the stairs without another thought. He couldn't stand to hear her suffer when he knew that there may be something he could do to help. Even if the probability was low and he didn't know where to start, he had to try.

He knocked hesitantly on the attic door, which was shut tight, and Mabel abruptly silenced her cries. "H-hello?"

"It's your Great Uncle Ford, Mabel," the old man said softly. After several long moments of silence (silence except for the occasional small hiccup or sniffle from Mabel's end), Ford ventured to prompt Mabel in the least intrusive way he could manage. "I had thought that I would be alone here for a bit longer. When did you come home?"

To Ford's surprise, Mabel's immediate response to this was a choked apology: "I'm sorry."

With those two simple words, Mabel had managed the rare feat of rendering the articulate author speechless. Of all emotions, why would Mabel be _sorry_? Had he accused her of something accidentally? "What are you sorry for?"

"I know you like being alone. I didn't mean to interrupt you... I'll try to be quieter."

Ford knew that he hadn't been bonding with Mabel quite as much as he should, but had he really been so cold to her that she felt the need to hide from him? "Nonsense. In fact, I was beginning to feel a little lonely." After he spoke, he was surprised to find that he wasn't lying. "Now, why did you come home so early? Is everything alright?"

The _tap tap tap_ of small ballet flats against the hardwood floor was a relieving sound to hear. Mabel was going to talk to him. So far, he was doing a good job.

But it was hard for Ford to ignore the paradoxical anxiety that was simultaneously rising in his stomach. Mabel was going to talk to him. The opportunity for him to screw this up was getting closer.

All of the mixed feelings swirling within Ford's chest and gut and mind vanished suddenly, easily replaced by paternal instinct when he saw the flushed, tear-stained face of his dear niece as she creaked open the door. He saw her, and he didn't care about calculated plans or his fear of failure anymore. All that he cared about was seeing her smile again.

"Grunkle Ford, am I ugly?" she boldly asked.

Ford gaped at the twelve-year-old, nonplussed. Of all the potential outcomes that Ford had considered, this was one that never even crossed his mind. "Excuse me?"

"I asked you if I was ugly."

"Why would you ever ask something like that, Mabel?" He stooped down to her level. "Why would anyone ever think that you're ugly?"

"Well..." Mabel looked away, embarrassed. "You know how I was hanging out with Ren today?"

Ford did vaguely remember Mabel saying something this morning about a boy named Ren and the perfect sweater for the perfect date and today was the day he would realize his love for her. He nodded, prompting her to go on.

"Well, uh, we were having a really fun time in the park, and the picnic was so good and the birds were singing and the sky was gorgeous and _he_ was gorgeous... It was such a perfect moment, and so- and so I tried to kiss him, and- and h-he said-" She cut herself off, burying her face in her sweater as the tears threatened to fall again, her chest rising and falling unevenly. "I-it's stupid."

Ford thought back to the time he confided in his father about the older kids teasing him about his polydactyly, how Filbrick had chastised and patronized him for getting upset over something so unimportant. He thought about how for the rest of his life, he never felt comfortable coming to his father when he was feeling upset or depressed. "If it's made you this upset, then it can't be stupid, Mabel," Ford assured her. "I promise I won't make fun of you if you tell me."

Mabel still seemed reluctant to speak, but she continued. "H-he said h-he was okay b-being my friend, b-but he wouldn't be caught d-d- _dead_ kissing a girl as u-ugly as me!" She erupted into sobs, furiously wiping her tears away.

Ford clenched his fists, half expecting the girl to start laughing and explain that it was all a joke and this Ren guy had actually been a perfect gentleman and treated Mabel as nothing less than the princess that she is. But instead, Mabel continued.

"A-and then he just kept going!" she hiccupped, becoming more and more difficult to understand through her hyperventilation. "H-he said I dr-dress bad, a-and my br-braces m-make me look l-like I have train t-tracks in m-my mouth and my ch-cheeks are t-too fat and my h-hair is- is greasy and– a-and-"

"Mabel." Ford stopped her right there. He couldn't listen to it anymore. The rage building inside of him was getting too strong, and he was starting to actually consider whether it would be acceptable to beat up a fourteen-year-old boy. He reached out a hand to place on her shoulder but hesitated before making contact. Was this one of those things that he should be asking for permission to do? He didn't want to make his niece uncomfortable. "Would it be alright if I-"

Mabel interrupted her grunkle by throwing herself into him, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck and bawling into his chest. Ford easily returned the hug and held her close; he wanted so desperately to protect her, to keep her secure in his arms until she believed with all her heart just how beautiful and precious she was.

They sat like that for a long time, Ford gently stroking Mabel's hair while she cried herself out. When her tears finally stopped and her breathing started to become more even, she ventured to speak again, her voice quiet and muffled through the fabric of her great uncle's sweater. "I never thought about how I look very much... but Ren was right, wasn't he? I'm ugly. I'm ugly and I'm fat and I'm gross and that's why I don't have a boyfriend yet. No boy could ever love someone who looks like me."

Agony wracked Ford's heart. He took his niece's shoulders in his hands and held her at enough of a distance to look her in the eye. "Mabel, dear, I'm going to tell you something, and I want to make sure that you're listening to every word I say. Alright?"

She nodded, eyebrows pulling together.

"I never want to hear you speak about yourself that way again. You are the most beautiful little girl that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are brilliant, you are kind, you are unique, and you are _Mabel._ There is nothing uglier than a boy who has nothing better to do than make wonderful girls feel bad about themselves."

A small smile began to appear on Mabel's lips as she listened to her grunkle, but before long her face fell. She looked down and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, the small flame of confidence that Ford lit within her snuffed out all too easily. "You're just lying to make me feel better."

The hope that had illuminated the old man's face when he saw his niece's smile faded when he heard her doubts. What had he done wrong? He was so proud of what he said, but it didn't seem to lift Mabel's spirits at all. Deep lines of worry creased his forehead as he tried to understand his miscalculation. "Why would I lie to you, dear?"

"You're my grunkle. You're not _allowed_ to be honest with me the way that Ren was. You _have_ to tell me that you think I'm not ugly, even though I _know_ when you look at me all you see is a stupid, repulsive _mess_ who doesn't deserve to be loved!"

In that moment, a steam engine plowed itself into Stanford's heart. He was knocked breathless by the impact, his eyes brimming with tears. Profound remorse clouded his expression and he removed his hands from her, curled fingers hovering just above her shoulders as he was stunned by Mabel's harsh opinion of herself.

Even Mabel seemed to be surprised by her own outburst. She quickly tried to explain herself. "Everything in this world is so beautiful and awesome and cool. And even though there's bad stuff happening, too, I _know_ everything will turn out okay. We have Dipper and Grunkle Stan and Wendy and Soos, and we have you, too. I'm so positive about everything all the time because it's who I am. I see the good in stuff because it comes easy to me." She held out her hands in front of herself and looked at them sadly. "But sometimes, when there's nothing going on to distract me, I have to think about _myself_. And it's hard for me to see the good in myself. I'm dumb and annoying and ugly and disgusting and I don't know how to change. I would do _anything_ to change."

Ford just stared at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; did Mabel really think of herself this way?

"I know that boys can be stupid," she continued. "But that doesn't mean they never tell the truth. And Ren was telling the truth when he called me ugly. I _know_ he was."

There was a deafening silence. Ford's heart throbbed in his ears and he scraped desperately for something to say.

Eventually, he had an idea, a new approach to the issue that he thought might get through to her.

"Mabel, tell me something that you like about yourself."

She blinked up at him, eyes wide in confusion. "What?"

"Think of one thing that you like about yourself, no matter how small it seems. It could your eyes or your nose. It could even be a single hair on your head. Just tell me one thing about your appearance that you like."

Mabel hesitated, but her curiosity won out and she decided to play along. "I like my nose," she said softly, latching onto one of Grunkle Ford's suggestions.

The author nodded. "It's a wonderful nose," he agreed. "I would be lying to say that I haven't found myself envying your nose once or twice since we met."

When Grunkle Ford saw the smallest smile starting to etch itself across Mabel's face, he was defenseless against the infection. The corners of his eyes crinkled happily as he reached out to tap his niece on the nose.

"The next time that you start feeling bad about yourself, Mabel, I want you to think about your nose. Ignore all of the things you don't like and focus on what you do. Eventually, you'll start to realize there's more than just your nose. Your eyes are beautiful, your hair is soft, and your smile could light up the entire multiverse."

Mabel wiped her nose on the back of her oversized sweater sleeve, still sniffling despite having finished her cries. "What if I forget?" she asked feebly.

"I will always be here to remind you, dear," he assured her. "And you said yourself, you have Wendy, Soos, Dipper, and Stan, as well. The next time that somebody makes you feel bad about yourself, come to one of us and we'll remind you how much we love you."

Mabel beamed at her great uncle and tackled him in a big hug, nearly knocking him over with the force of it. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford secured his hold on the girl before standing up, and she giggled as she was lifted into the air. "Do you feel better, sweetheart?"

Her enthusiastic nod sparked pride in Ford's heart, pride mixed with relief and contentment and _love._ He had done well. He hadn't let his niece down. He had made her smile again.

Before long, Mabel pulled back just enough to look up at her grunkle, biting her lip. "What about Ren?"

"Don't you worry about him, dear. I'll take care of him."

———

 _Please remember to leave a review! If there's any interest, I'll make it a two-shot and write a second chapter where Ford (and perhaps Stan?) "takes care" of Ren!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: WOW THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS! sorry..._

 _So this is kind of part 1.5... I wanted to show how Stan finds out and it ended up getting lengthy so now you get a three-shot... whoops!_

 _but dont worry. the final part shouldn't take anywhere near as long as this one did! I've just been busy working on my other fics and school and family and life... anyway, here goes!_

* * *

"Alright, Poindexter. We need to talk."

Ford tensed visibly, probably peeved that Stan had entered his precious lab without permission, but Stan couldn't care less right now. Whatever super secret paranoid sci-fi nerd thing his brother was up to, it could wait. There were more important things to talk about now.

* * *

Stan had just closed the shack after sending off the day's final round of tourists, and he had _really_ been looking forward to sitting back in his chair and just watching _Baby Fights_ and turning off his mind. There was only one thing he had to accomplish before hunkering down for the night: a trip to the bathroom.

That was where he caught Mabel standing in front of the mirror in a tank top, staring sadly at her reflection like she was searching for something that she couldn't find.

"Hey," Stan said softly, putting a gentle hand on his niece's shoulder. "Ya doin' okay, kid?"

Mabel jumped a bit at her grunkle's touch, then turned to look at him and grinned brightly, a soft rosy-pink tinging her cheeks. "I'm okay, Grunkle Stan."

"Ya lookin' for Bloody Mary or somethin'? 'Cause I don't think it works with all the lights on." He stooped down to her level and offered a smile.

The girl giggled, and it filled the old man's chest with fondness and warmth. "No, I was just…" Her smile faded as she trailed off, biting her lip hesitantly. "I was just looking at myself."

"What for?"

"Um…" She hesitated, avoiding Stan's gaze as she felt her ears start to heat up. "Grunkle Ford told me when I start feeling bad about myself, I should focus on the things I like, even if they're little things."

Stan smiled to himself a little bit, remembering a time when he was younger and had to tell Ford the same thing. "That's good advice," he affirmed with a nod, but then he frowned and gently brushed a piece of hair from Mabel's cheek. "But why're ya feelin' bad about yourself?"

"It's nothing!"

The conman's frown deepened, a crease of worry appearing on his brow. That answer came too fast, and he could tell that Mabel knew it. "Sweetie, is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?"

Mabel sighed, accepting defeat. "Please don't get mad, okay? I don't want you to do anything rash."

Stan nodded patiently.

"When I was on my date with Ren yesterday, he… He said he didn't wanna date me because I'm ugly. And then he said a lot more really, really mean things, but when I came home Grunkle Ford talked to me about it and he was really nice and I felt a lot better and then we hugged and he even watched TV with me for a little bit afterward, so it's all okay!" She rushed through her explanation like she was expecting a negative reaction from her great uncle and wanted to get through the story as fast as possible so that he wouldn't have time to process the information. It was as if she thought something would snap within her grunkle, that he would react irrationally and overprotectively and be filled with a bloodlust for her now-ex love interest.

She was a really smart girl.

She knew her grunkle well.

Stan shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists; every muscle in his body tightened as he tried to breathe through his initial reaction and decide what to say.

The silence made Mabel nervous. She had a bad feeling about whatever sort of thoughts were going through Grunkle Stan's head. (Again, she was a smart girl.)

"Grunkle Stan, please don't be mad! He's a jerk and a bully and I'm not gonna talk to him anymore. And he's still a nice guy and I don't want anything bad to happen to him, even though he was mean to me. And I feel better now! Grunkle Ford made me feel better. He was the only one home when it happened so I told him everything and he did a really good job and everything is good and happy now in the world of Mabel Pines, do not worry, don't worry one bit!"

Stan sighed, shoulders slumping, and he looked back up at his niece, a soft look in his eyes. "It's okay, Mabel," he smiled. "I'm glad you're feelin' better. And I'm glad my brother got his head outta his butt long enough to help."

Mabel chuckled a little bit at her grunkle's words.

"If he ever puts his head back up there, remember ya always got your brother to turn to if ya need a bit of comfort. A twin's the best thing ya can ask for when you're feelin' down about yourself."

The twelve-year-old nodded with a small smile.

"And if ya ever wanna talk to someone who's _not_ a huge dork, I'm your guy. I'm always up for some quality time with my favorite niece."

Her smile stretched into a beaming grin and she threw her arms around her grunkle's neck. "Thank you, Grunkle Stan!"

He pat the twelve-year old on the back, smiling fondly at the physical affection. "Heh… No problem, sweetie. Can't have ya down in the dumps, now, can I?" As a last-minute quip to preserve his selfish image, he added, "It's bad for business."

She chuckled, planting a firm kiss to the side of his head before pulling back from the hug. "Thanks for not getting too mad at Ren… I know you wanna protect me, but I just don't want you doing anything silly…"

Every muscle in Stan's face clenched up at the mention of the little brat's name. He smiled tightly, ruffling Mabel's hair before standing back up. "Now, go run upstairs. It's past bedtime, ya gremlin."

Mabel didn't have to be told twice; she scurried away, calling over her shoulder as she went, "'Night, Grunkle Stan! I'll see you in the morning!"

"G'night, kid," Stan called back, keeping the smile in his voice even as it faded from his face.

He had a bone to pick with his brother.

* * *

"Stanley." Ford's voice was firm, bordering on scolding. With short, quick movements, he struggled to hide something in his desk before turning to face his brother. "What are you doing down here?"

"Wanna tell me why my niece had her heart ripped out by some prepubescent twerp and I didn't find out till just now?"

Ford's nostrils flared, his face coloring with anger, but there was something in the scientist's expression that seemed distinctly different from when he was angry with Stan. It was more like he was tensing at the mention of Ren. "It wasn't my place to tell you. You and Mabel obviously have a strong bond, and I didn't want to overstep my boundaries by talking to you before she had the chance."

Okay, that was actually a pretty good point. But still. "She didn't wanna tell me 'cause she thought I'd get pissed and wanna beat the kid up."

"Was she wrong?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what's the issue?"

"The _issue,_ Brainiac, is that if _you_ already knew about it, then why didn't _you_ beat the kid up?!"

Ford scoffed. "Believe me; it took more self control than I'm proud of."

Stan wasn't surprised to see that Ford seemed just as enraged by the situation as he was; it had become clear by now that Ford cared deeply for the niblings, even if he hadn't known them long, and Stan knew from experience that the fastest way to get his analytical brother's blood boiling was to hurt the people he loved (which, once upon a time, meant hurting Stan, but that was a story for a different time). Receiving confirmation that Ford hadn't lost his protective instincts just made it infinitely more frustrating that the asshole who hurt Mabel wasn't already six feet underground. "Self control?! Who gives a crap about self control when he made her _cry?!"_

"I don't-" Ford heaved a frustrated sigh, running a hand down his face. He stood and walked over to his brother. "I was waiting for Mabel to tell you because I can't go out there by myself. I need your help."

Now, _that_ came as a surprise to Stan. He narrowed his eyes, taking a small, suspicious step backward. "Whaddaya mean?"

A vindictive little smirk found itself on Ford's face. "Two angry men are much scarier than one."


	3. Chapter 3

Ren was fourteen years old, which meant he was halfway through the sour end of puberty, just old enough to be five-foot-eight but still too young to have any measurable muscle mass. He was scrawny and angular with not much talent to speak of, his grade reports consistently turning out B's and C's and his sense of humor decent but unspectacular. The best thing he had going for him was the ability to speak smoothly in articulated sentences (albeit in a cracking mid-pubescent voice) and the five years of baritone horn lessons he had under his belt.

He was walking home from said lessons now, horn case in hand as he headed through the dusky evening. There was a cool nip in the late summer air as the sun lowered over the horizon and the teenager felt himself shiver.

There was something… _eerie_ about the walk home tonight. Ren couldn't quite put his finger on it…

Suddenly, a dark figure appeared before him, a stern, solid, square silhouette against the setting sun that loomed over him. He jumped in surprise and regarded the stranger; it was an old man in a dark coat with a stony face framed by charcoal tufts of hair. He stood firmly, hands behind his back, and seemed to tower over Ren despite only being a few inches taller.

He looked… weirdly familiar.

Wait, this guy looked like that old kook that ran the Mystery Shack place.

"Uh- Stan Pines?"

A dark laugh sounded from behind Ren, and the teen spun around with a small, frightened yelp to find a second stranger standing behind him.

"Nope. That'd be me, kid." He was standing arrogantly, hands on his hips, his thick, silver eyebrows lowered sinisterly over vindictive eyes. "I'm surprised ya know who I am, actually. With my reputation, I wouldn't think anyone with half a workin' brain would dare to hurt my niece. But maybe you're just that dumb, huh?"

Ren's sweaty palms were starting to really make it difficult to keep a good grip on his instrument's case. "Y-your niece?"

"Ya know. The prettiest gal in the world? The one ya made cry because ya got some sort of… I dunno. Some sort of weird desire to get yer ass kicked by an old man?"

The baritone case dropped to the ground, a loud echo sounding through a nearby alley. "M-Mabel is your niece?!"

Local scheister Stan Pines, infamous town confidence man known to have violent disregard for the law, was related to Mabel.

Local scheister Stan Pines knew that Ren made Mabel cry.

The conman chuckled at the fear written all over the teenager's face. "There we go. That's the fear I'm used to seein'."

"I didn't mean to make her cry!" The words spilled from Ren's mouth as he desperately looked for an out of the situation. "She's really sweet, honest! We were just hanging out as friends, and I didn't know what to do when she tried to kiss me! I panicked and I didn't know what to say, I just didn't wanna kiss her, she's so young and hyper and _weird_ and-"

"What's wrong with being weird?"

Ren spun back around, eyes blown wide open. He'd completely forgotten that there was a second person there; the streetlamps were creating a glare in the old man's glasses that hid his eyes, but the teenager didn't need to see his eyes to feel the icy glare boring into him. "N-nothing! I'm sorry, no, nothing, I just-"

"Listen, kid," Stan interrupted. He slapped a heavy hand down on Ren's shoulder, making him jump, and leaned forward to talk in his ear. "I try to keep my head down and be a good citizen, y'know? When people screw me over, I just let karma do its job. But in my family, we've always lived by one gold rule: screw over family, and _we_ become karma."

The teenager was shaking now, the open plastic case and now-damaged horn at his feet long forgotten.

The old man who looked like Stan, the one Ren was facing, took a step forward. He spoke softly, something close to kindest in his voice despite the cold, hardened expression on his face. "Don't worry about my brother, Ren. He's hot-tempered and capable of talking up a storm, but he's truly harmless." Ren sighed with momentary relief, but his muscles tensed right back up when Stan's brother added, "Of course, though, that's only relatively speaking."

"R-relatively?"

"Of course. I mean, I suppose he's actually capable of dealing a fair amount of damage—but despite his criminal record and violent reputation, he's really not the one that you need to worry about."

Ren could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "He's n-not?"

"Don't worry; it's a common mistake. My brother is so notorious that most people assume that between the two of us, _he's_ the more nefarious one. I suppose it _is_ logical to conclude that the members of a pair would be good and bad, as opposed to bad and worse."

"Wh-what are you s-saying?"

The man leaned forward, a sinister smirk on his face. The shift in angle removed the glare from his glasses, allowing Ren to get a good look into his eyes, and they were steely and vindictive, angry and _cruel._ "It's quite simple, boy:

" _I'm_ the evil twin."

* * *

Mabel looked up from her scrapbook, bits of multicolored washi tape stuck to her hair, when the front door opened and both of her grunkles entered the house. She frowned. "Grunkle Ford? I thought you were downstairs. And Grunkle Stan, you said you were gonna be out all night." She widened her eyes, clapping her hands to her cheeks. "Are you planning a party for me?! Oh my god, there better be cupcakes!"

"Hey—no more parties in this house. Already made that rule," Stan answered, pointing at Mabel to punctuate his point. "Now go to sleep. It's past bedtime, kid."

The girl crossed her arms in a full pout. "I'm not tired!"

"Where's your brother, dear?" Ford inquired.

"Asleep, like a nerd."

"So why aren't _you_ asleep?"

"Nuh uh, no way!" Mabel protested, jabbing an accusatory finger at her grunkles. " _My_ turn to ask a question! What are _you_ two doing out so late, huh?"

Stan waved a hand dismissively, walking past his niece and ruffling her hair as he did. "Don't worry 'bout it, pun'kin. Just takin' care of business."

Mabel widened her eyes, looking at her Grunkle Ford in disbelief. "You _didn't!"_

Stan grabbed a Pitt Cola out of the cooler. "Didn't what?"

The old codger's attempts at playing dumb were rendered ineffective when his twin floundered under the twelve-year-old's stare, a guilty blush coloring his cheeks.

The girl gasped, jumping to her feet. "You promised you wouldn't hurt him!"

"We didn't," Ford defended, playing with his fingers. "We merely… talked some sense into him."

"With a gun pointed to his head," Stan chuckled, earning a glare from his niece. "What? It wasn't my idea, or my gun! It was Poindexter's weird sci-fi laser. He said the kid would know we meant business that way."

This time, Ford was the one to shoot a glare the conman's way. "Stanley!"

"What? It was a good idea! Kid almost wet his pants!"

"What did you say to him?!" Mabel demanded, stomping a foot down.

Ford sighed and approached his niece, kneeling in front of her and placing his large hand gently on her shoulder. "I told him not to bother you anymore, and I told him to never bother any beautiful young girls again."

Mabel blushed, looking up at her uncle with a shy smile. "Thank you, Grunkle Ford."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Stan scooped Mabel up in his arms and proceeded to give her an affectionate noogie. She squealed in false protest, squirming in his tight hug.

"Thank you, Grunkle Stan!" she giggled, hoping that acknowledging his role in the confrontation would end the ruthless noogie-ing.

"Hey, don't mention it, squirt." He put the girl down, smiling fondly. "Let me know next time anyone tries to get under your skin, alright?"

"Nobody hurts Mabel Pines; not while we're around," Ford smiled.

"Just hope your brother doesn't find out about that little brat. He won't go so easy on 'im, I'm sure."

Mabel grinned and forced the two old men into one more heartfelt hug, kissing each of them on the cheek.

They were right—as long as Mabel had her boys, she'd never have to worry about getting hurt again.


End file.
